


The Golden Calf III: Something Strangely Beautiful

by TheVulgarBookworm



Series: Minoan Son [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Animagus Bestiality, Animalistic, Bestiality, Creature Lucius Malfoy, Cunnilingus, Doggy Style, F/M, Feral Behavior, Frottage, Inhuman Cock, Minotaur - Freeform, Size Difference, Teratophilia, Woman on Top
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:41:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22625734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheVulgarBookworm/pseuds/TheVulgarBookworm
Summary: As Lucius grows closer to Hermione and Prospero, he grows farther away from who he was. Caught between the past and the present, he finds himself grasping for things he's never had, feeling things he's never felt; like the overwhelming need to protect what was his. And just when did he start thinking of Hermione as his anyway? Not once, in all his time in Azkaban, had he entertained such thoughts, but now that he had, it was alarming how quickly he was getting used to the idea. What was more alarming, still, was that he liked it so much.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Lucius Malfoy
Series: Minoan Son [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1157138
Comments: 36
Kudos: 193





	The Golden Calf III: Something Strangely Beautiful

**Author's Note:**

> I am so excited to finally be uploading part three of this series! It seems that I only upload a golden calf story once per year, so here is this year's contribution. If you haven't read the first two installments, I definitely recommend doing that. This story picks up right where the second left off. Prospero doesn't have a big role in this part, so there is a cute little flashback for him. Hopefully I'll find more for him to do in part four.

Lucius Malfoy remained awake for some time, propped up on his elbow and simply staring down at the woman sound asleep in his arms. His fingers stroked lightly over her shoulder, and they slipped easily through her curls, bringing a wave of anxiety and nausea to his stomach with every gentle, hesitant caress. He chased that feeling though, certain that if it made him feel so wrong then it was probably right. That kind of thinking had served him well with Prospero so far since his release.

She made a little sound of contentment, pressing closer against his chest. He held his breath as he felt her drape her arm over his waist. She grew still again, settling back into a deep sleep, and Lucius breathed in slowly as his fingers began their hesitant dance once more.

It wasn’t like he hated it. Just as he had told her, he didn't think that he did. The intimacy just made him more uncomfortable than anything really. It was an unfamiliar feeling to him. 

It had terrified him, he could admit if only to himself, when Hermione had made her unexpected request. Yes, it had been a long time, but time wasn't the issue, and there  _ had  _ been a sudden rush of performance anxiety that had seized his heart, but it wasn't due to the obvious or the usual reason most men feared. 

He hadn't been afraid that he couldn't perform until things started to go wrong. The thing that had terrified him was the thought that Hermione would come to prefer his human side when he clearly preferred the other. With her, that was familiar to him. He didn't remember how to be human with her. The last time he had performed as a human had been his first time with her, and he wouldn't say that he had good associations of that day so many years ago. She couldn’t possibly have either.

And then her timid confession… Music to his ears. 

Clearly he had worried for naught, and what they had just done would be little more than a new tool to use in this… thing, between them, a way to help bind them more tightly together, because there was no mistaking that they were bound. He had realized it when her first letter had come to him behind bars only a month after his incarceration. She hadn't needed to write to him. He hadn't expected her to.

Narcissa had recognized the bond growing between them much earlier. It was why she had ultimately left. Lucius lay his head down on the pillow next to Hermione at last. His last thought before drifting off was of Narcissa. He wondered if she regretted pushing them together in the first place.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Argh!” Lucius barked out, woken rudely from a deep sleep as something solid landed on him, and drove all the air from his lungs.

“Wha…,” he slurred groggily, putting up his hands to shield his eyes from the light in the room.

Big black eyes peered down at him from behind his hand. 

“Prospero?” he asked in sleepy confusion, a scowl on his face. 

The boy turned to look over his shoulder, his hands fairly flying, and Lucius heard noises from him he couldn't make out. He understood the other voice from across the room quite clearly though.

“And you're such a ray of sunshine in the mornings? I think not." She laughed, a lovely, melodic sound, and Lucius wondered if it would ever be directed at him, not that he was coherent enough to consider the direction of his thoughts. "Now hurry up. We need to get going.”

The boy turned back to him. There were more noises, and then he threw an arm around his neck, and there was suddenly a slobbery, wet, and rough tongue on his cheek before the boy was pushing up off him. Evidently, Hermione hadn't been lying about the kissing. And then he was alone again just as suddenly as he had been rudely awoken.

Lucius rubbed absently at his cheek, threw his arm over his head, and tried to fall back asleep...

It seemed like only minutes later when he felt a warm body slide beneath the sheets and press up against his back. A slender arm wound around his waist. He smiled slightly, thinking that it might not be so difficult to get used to the cuddling.

“What was that about?” Lucius asked, his voice still slurred with sleep.

He felt her smile against his back as her arm tightened around him. “Don't worry about it right now. It's still early.”

She settled against him, and Lucius turned to look over his shoulder, but her eyes were already closed. He turned back, and stared across the room for many long minutes as he listened to her breath grow slow and even behind him. The day was quickly approaching, and the room was already nearly too bright for sleep.

Lucius had no idea how he managed it.

When he opened his eyes again, the light streaming in through the window proclaimed that the sun was already high in the sky. The bed next to him was empty. 

He sat up slowly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with a yawn. There were no sounds coming from the bathroom, so he assumed she was already downstairs. He couldn't find his shirt anywhere, but he located his trousers amongst the discarded clothing on the floor. Lucius slipped them on before following after her.

He moved silently through the small cottage, avoiding the creaky stair step he had found his first night there, and came upon her in the kitchen. Her back was to him, and she hummed something he couldn't place as she worked though it sounded familiar somehow. Lucius pushed off the door frame where he had paused to watch contentedly and moved up behind her on silent feet.

"So that's where my shirt went," Lucius murmured, his voice still rough with sleep. He reached out to draw a finger down her shoulder. "I was looking for it."

She wasn't wearing a bra he noted, and he grinned slightly at the realization.

Lucius gathered the material in his hand, bunching it slowly, and was gifted with the sight of her cheeky lace knickers in a lovely goldenrod hue cupping her backside beautifully before she swatted his hand away. She tugged the shirt tail down, covering up the glorious sight, but the outline of her curves was still visible as she moved back over to the stove.

"Is that  _ all _ you think about?" The question was thrown over her shoulder saucily, her grin playful and familiar.

"Mostly," he conceded. "I  _ was _ locked away for ten years with little else to do, though now I find myself overwhelmed with such thoughts."

Indeed, part of him wanted to bend her over the sink as he'd been prepared to do the previous day. That part was a vocal minority. Right now he was more interested in seeing how this played out.

"Perhaps this time I merely wanted my shirt back. I don't have many right now." In fact, it was the second of only two he had with him. The other was the same one he had been wearing when released, the same one he had worn at his trial, the one he had been wearing when the aurors had arrested him. A trip to the manor was in order. It was a trip he had been putting off. 

She looked him up and down over her shoulder with an appreciative eye before turning back around. "Mmm, but I rather like you barefoot and shirtless. There's something appealing about it."

Lucius was shocked by her brazen demeanor. He found himself momentarily speechless at the difference between Hermione and Narcissa. His wife had always been exceedingly proper, never playful. He didn't quite know what to make of it.

"Is something wrong?" she asked turning slightly to look back at him when he had remained silent for too long.

Lucius shook his head stiffly. "What happened this morning was… What was that?"

She pulled down two plates, an apologetic look gracing her features. "Yeah, I'm sorry he was a little rough. Prospero doesn't know his own strength sometimes. You may have noticed he's rather excitable."

It wasn't really what he had been referring to, but yes, he had noticed. It was another of the marked differences between Prospero and his brother. Draco had never done anything of the sort. He glanced around, listening intently, but the only sounds he heard came from where Hermione was plating breakfast at the stove. "Where  _ is _ Prospero?”

She carried their plates to the table and gestured for him to sit before she answered. "Well, Ginny has training today, so Fleur was already watching her kids. She offered to keep an eye on Prospero for the day."

"Fleur?" Lucius looked uncertain. "Do I know her?"

Hermione realised then that Lucius had spent enough time away from the world that she would need to be sure she caught him up. "Delacour. She married Bill Weasely, Arthur and Molly's oldest."

Lucius nodded in recognition.

"I took her up on her offer. I thought it would give us the chance to talk."

"Talk?" he echoed frostily. Lucius picked up his knife and fork. He concentrated on his plate, refusing to meet her earnest gaze. "What about?"

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hermione gazed at him across the table momentarily thrown by the sudden, clipped coldness in his voice. She had thought they had reached a new level of intimacy given what had occurred between them the previous night. Then it came to her. They had, and that was most likely the problem.

Whatever skills Lucius had possessed in being a parent and a partner, and considering how Draco had turned out they had been anemic to start with, had atrophied after ten years in prison. Everything must feel so new and different to him. He no more knew how to deal with the budding intimacy of their relationship than he knew how to handle a ten-year-old. Lucius was out of his element and one thing she had figured out was that he hated the feeling of vulnerability that came with it.

She would have to tread carefully if she wanted to avoid a repeat of their previous misunderstanding.

"To talk about Prospero."  _ And about us, _ she added silently. "How was yesterday?" she asked quietly. It was really the first chance they had gotten to talk alone.

His steely gaze flicked to hers, "Good," and then it finally softened incrementally.

Lucius' eyes narrowed slightly as he thought, until finally he offered a ghost of a smile. “He's a fine boy. Energetic. Curious. Intelligent. You did well raising him.”

She glanced shyly at him, and grinned before dropping her gaze to the table to study him out of the corner of her eye. "I'm glad it went well. He's wanted to meet you for so long."

Lucius looked down again, swallowing hard. "I'm surprised you let him, that you allowed him to be alone with me."

"Lucius, look at me." It was with great reluctance that his eyes met hers once more, and she resisted the urge to reach across the table for his hand. He looked ready to bolt as it was. 

Instead she merely replied with as much sincerity as she could muster so that he would know that she was serious, "I am  _ not _ Narcissa. I will never keep your son from you. We never visited partly because it was near impossible to get clearance," she saw the slight widening of his eyes that told her he caught the significance of the statement, "and partly because I wanted his first memory of you to be as you are. You're his father not a criminal."

"You know that I'm both," Lucius interjected. It was a simple statement, devoid of emotion.

"Not to him. You've done your time. As far as I'm concerned, it's behind you. Besides, Prospero doesn't know any of that."

He chuckled darkly. "Actually, he does. He knows everything, well everything that was made public that is."

Hermione's jaw dropped. "Did you-"

Lucius shook his head, halting her question. "Some boy named James told him."

She groaned. 

"Harry and Ginny's oldest. I'd be willing to bet he overheard Molly talking."  _ Or Ron, _ she added to herself.  _ Or the both of them.  _

They were the lone holdouts in her reconciliation with her friends. Ron had never been able to move on from what had happened. She thought maybe he had blamed himself in the beginning for her getting left behind. At some point though, about the same time she had started sending letters to Lucius in prison, Ron's behavior had turned downright hostile. Molly, while not hostile, had certainly treated her differently. She had made it clear to Hermione through her actions that she was a tolerated guest in her home rather than the daughter she once had been considered.

Bill and Fleur had taken over most of the hosting duties for family get-togethers as a result. They still treated her like family. Harry and Ginny did too, but they just didn't understand the way Bill and Fleur did.

"I'm sorry. I didn't want him to find out like that."

"Did you think you could hide it?" Lucius asked incredulously.

Hermione looked at him, saddened by the knowledge of what she had inadvertently allowed to happen. "I thought I had time, that I could wait until he was older, old enough to understand."

They each picked at their breakfasts in silence for several minutes. Hermione could feel the restless energy radiating off Lucius and she wasn't quite sure what to do about it. It was starting to make her a bit anxious. She hated not having all the answers as much as Lucius hated feeling vulnerable.

He pushed his plate away, standing abruptly. The sudden movement startled her, and she jumped.

"Forgive me," he said, somewhat stiffly. "I just need some air."

Hermione took in the rigid set of his shoulders, his rapid breathing, growing shallow and fast, the way his eyes darted about. Their conversation was clearly agitating him, and the small kitchen seemed to only be amplifying the feeling for him.

She stood as well, and this time reached out for his hand. "Perhaps we could continue elsewhere? There's no reason to stay inside on such a beautiful day."

Lucius looked down at her hand, poised above the table, but didn't move otherwise. He seemed to hesitate, but then he raised his eyes to meet hers. "Could we continue this at the Fort, perhaps?"

The cautious hope in his eyes wasn't easily hidden on his human face, though he did try. Hermione smiled warmly back at him and nodded. She had known that he would like the place.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lucius seemed to relax as soon they set foot outside. She wondered if it was the long years of imprisonment or his beastly side bleeding through that made him detest confinement. It was likely that even he didn't know, and she doubted she would ever find out for certain.

Hermione glanced at him walking next to her as they reached the quarry's edge. His alabaster skin glistened with a light sheen from the late morning sun and their hike to the secluded spot. He had decided to go without his shirt when she had coyly expressed an interest in keeping it. He had donned his shoes though. His human feet weren't able to withstand the terrain yet.

She had no such trouble. Both she and Prospero often trekked to the Fort barefoot. Her borrowed shirt was nearly a dress on her, and there was no one within miles of them anyway. She had put on her bra, though, much to Lucius' disappointment. Lucius halted when they reached the quarry floor, hitching the heavy picnic basket on his arm. She watched him look around and take in the sight before he closed his eyes and breathed in deeply.

Lucius opened his eyes and turned to her. The corner of his mouth pulled up slightly, an earnest expression flickering across his face as he offered his arm. She took it, allowing him to lead her over to the treeline. With a deliberate sort of care, Lucius removed his shoes and socks, setting them aside before gracefully throwing himself down onto the shaded stretch of grass beneath a large oak. She followed him down, reclining on her elbows as he stretched out beside her.

Hermione listened to the small waves lapping at the surface of the lake, and reveled in the breeze that cooled her skin. Her gaze traveled covertly down the length of Lucius' long, elegant leg, bent slightly to allow him to dig his toes into the grass beneath his foot. She turned her eyes back towards the lake in no hurry to force the conversation. Lucius would talk when he was ready. She was certain of it.

Lucius reclined with one arm tucked beneath his head, the other curled lightly across his stomach much as he did when he rested next to her in bed. It was nearly ten minutes before he finally spoke.

"How much does Prospero understand?" he asked in a quiet, thoughtful voice.

Her head swivelled back in his direction to find him looking at her with those piercing eyes of his. "I'm not quite sure what you mean."

"You sign to him when you speak, but he never seems to be looking at your hands."

"Oh, that," she replied, turning on her side to face him. "It's habit, I suppose. He can understand me. His vocal cords just aren't shaped for human speech."

Lucius nodded absently, satisfied with her answer. "Will you tell me about him?"

"What do you want to know?" Her fingers played absently against his side.

Lucius paused almost as if trying to decide, and then on an exhale, whispered, "Everything."

She scooted closer to him, pleased when she put her head on his chest and he didn't pull away. "You're going to have to be more specific than that."

"Does 'Prospero' mean something to you?"

“You're asking why I chose it?"

"Yes."

She smiled whimsically, glancing up at him. "Because the rarer action is in virtue than in vengeance.”

He tilted his head and looked at her curiously. Hermione pulled her bottom lip between her teeth as a serious expression stole over her features. "I didn't know what I was going to do. I had just been released from St. Mungo's, but your package hadn't yet arrived, and my friends and I weren't on speaking terms. My parents were still out of the picture at the time too."

"Your parents? What do you mean?"

She shook her head slightly. "That's a story for another time. I don't want to get into it right now. Suffice to say, I was alone and I was afraid that I couldn't do it on my own. And I was so angry. At you for what you had done to me. At my friends for abandoning me. At myself for not having all the answers. I always had all the answers."

He took a deep breath like he was about to say something, so she rushed onwards to head him off. "I wandered into this little theater near where I was staying to take my mind off things, to just let go of the hurt and anger for a few hours. It might seem a little silly, but the line just resonated with me. I could choose to forgive and move on or I could keep being angry and get nowhere. Then I got your package and I wrote to you for the first time the following week."

"And the name is important I take it."

"In the play, Prospero is the one who has to make that choice. I didn't know at the time that I was having a boy, but I liked the name. You have other questions?"

Lucius cleared his throat apprehensively. His next question was something he had worried about, knowing how the Wizarding World felt about magical creatures. Unfortunately he had his own part to play in the bigotry displayed by the population at large. As a Malfoy, he had been afforded all the respect he was due among his fellow pure-bloods, but he had never made his animagus ability or it's form publicly known either. "Is he- how is he treated?"

Hermione avoided his gaze. "His herd treats him as though he'll lead them one day."

"That's not what I'm asking."

"I know."

She sighed deeply as she sat up to look at Lucius, tucking her hair behind her ear as she did so. He unconsciously mirrored her actions, scooting back against the tree behind him.

"It isn't easy on him. It's gotten better over the years, there isn't quite so much bigotry, but there are times..."

Her voice faltered.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

He knew he wasn't good at reading her, he didn't know her well enough, but even he could see just how much the admission upset her. Her reaction spoke volumes above anything she actually said aloud. Lucius found that he couldn't speak, his throat constricted with a fierce, protective rage he'd never known.

Sidelong glances were expected, even whispers from the bolder sort after one had passed. They came with the territory of being in the public eye. Even when he had fallen out of favor with Voldemort, no one had dared to openly mock him.

Lucius clenched his hand into a fist. Azkaban had kept him away for far too long if people off the street felt comfortable enough to treat a Malfoy with such disrespect to their face. It was a slight that would not be tolerated.

"I shall take him with me," Lucius announced decisively before he even registered the words. “Into Diagon Alley.”

Clearly even Hermione's status as a war hero was not enough to curb wagging tongues.

"Lucius…"

"No. Prospero should be treated with the respect his name deserves. Those common fools will not dare say a word when they are reminded of who he is."

"That's what I'm trying to tell you, Lucius," she murmured, reaching for his hand. "Not that he should be treated differently, but it isn't common knowledge that... that Prospero is your son."

Lucius jerked away from her, feeling inexplicably as though she had reached out and slapped him. 

"What?" he hissed in disbelief. "But his name… You told me-"

"Lucius, please... It isn't like that." She tried to reach for him again, and once again he pulled away staring at her in accusation. "My friends know. They haven't told anyone. I asked them not to."

"I don't understand," and even he could hear the low rumble in his voice as he fought to hold on to his temper. "Are you ashamed of him? Of what he is? Was that why you never pressed charges?"

Her odd behavior suddenly made sense in Lucius' eyes. Clearly she hadn't wanted anyone, aside from those close to her who wouldn't judge, to know the sordid details of her past.

"No!" she yelled at him. "How could you ask me that?!? You utter arse!"

Confused, unsure whether to hold on to his anger or attempt to comfort her, Lucius reached out. 

Hermione shrugged his hand off her shoulder. 

"Don't  _ fucking _ touch me!" she snapped. He dropped his hand slowly without saying a word.

"How dare you suggest that? That I'm ashamed of my son? Is that what you really think?"

Lucius shook his head. "No..."

No, he didn't believe that. Even if he had nothing more to go on than the current conversation he wouldn't believe that. 

"I asked them not to say anything," and she gestured emphatically between them, "because  _ we _ never actually talked about whether that was what you even wanted."

Two spots of color bloomed in her cheeks, and Lucius watched from the corner of his eye warily. No, he certainly didn't know her at all.

"Legally giving him your name is one thing." 

She swiped at angry tears sliding down her cheeks. 

"I wasn't going to assume that you wanted to declare it to the entire Wizarding World. Just like I wasn't going to assume-" but she stopped speaking abruptly and Lucius realized belatedly that he was witnessing hurt rather than anger.

"What?" he prodded almost gently,  _ his _ anger now dissipated, when she remained silent much longer than he anticipated.

She hesitated before speaking, glancing quickly in his direction. "Don't take it the wrong way, but I performed the contraceptive charm after- well after that first night… and this morning too. I didn't want to. I was hoping… but I thought we should discuss it first."

Hermione cleared her throat, her voice cracking with suppressed emotion. "Neither of us had a choice before, not that I would trade Prospero for the world, but this time, if there is a this time, we should both have a say in it."

Lucius was quiet, head bowed in thought. More children was not something he had really considered. For years he had thought Draco would be the only one until the Dark Lord had demanded otherwise. Unexpected though he was, Lucius felt as Hermione did. He would not have given up Prospero either.

"I didn't even think… We've never bothered because…"

"I know," she murmured softly, "but now we have to decide not only whether or not, but what they'll look like too."

Lucius reached for her hand again. This time she didn't push him away.

"You said you were hoping…" His thumb brushed across the back of her hand. 

"Is it so hard to believe?"

Lucius started to shake his head, but then he stopped. It  _ was _ a little. It was another new experience in his life: being with a woman who wanted his children.

"Narcissa never wanted children. She was obligated, but-"

Hermione gave Lucius a long-suffering sigh. "I really do wish you would stop mentioning Narcissa. I keep telling you that I'm not her."

"I know that," he insisted. "Believe me, I could never confuse the two of you."

"So, what do you say?"

Truth be told, he was rather hoping too. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to say it for some reason.

"It's okay," she whispered, tucking her face against his neck and breathing deeply, still a little shaky.

"It's not that I don't."

"I didn't really expect an answer yet. It's a big change that you're going through, coming from Azkaban. I just wanted to put it out there."

"A change," he huffed. "That's quite the understatement."

Lucius felt her smile against his neck. The anger had gone out of both of them, and they sat in silence for a while. He enjoyed the feeling of Hermione's soft, warm breath against his skin. When he glanced down her eyes were closed, a smile ghosting her lips that made his heart flutter oddly. He hated to spoil the moment, but...

"I'll be gone tomorrow… only for a while," he added quickly when she lifted her head to look at him. "I'm- well, I'm meeting with…"

Hermione only nodded slightly. "Draco too?"

"Draco too," Lucius confirmed.

"I assumed you would at some point. Will you be back for dinner?" she asked, reaching up to touch his cheek.

He nodded, a smile touching his lips, and he rubbed his cheek against her hand. He would much rather have dinner at the cottage with her and Prospero.

"I was thinking of inviting Bill and Fleur and the kids over if- if that was okay."

His smile faltered.

Weasleys. In all his days Lucius had never once thought that he would be friendly with any of them. His previous social circle was non-existent though. They were either dead, in prison, uninterested in remaining on friendly terms, or he had only tolerated them to begin with.

And Prospero was with them now, this particular group of Weasleys. They had welcomed him into their home, shown him more kindness than the rest of wizarding society even knowing who he was. Lucius would have truly poor manners indeed if he chose to hold on to old grudges and simply refused to associate with them.

"Yes, alright."

She looked at him skeptically.

"They may be Weasleys, but they're clearly important to you. That means they're important to Prospero as well."

Hermione nodded her agreement. "Bill and Fleur were my biggest supporters when I decided to keep in touch with you. They helped me out quite a bit."

"Well then I have no choice  _ but _ to be civil, don't I?" He pulled her against him once more, one of his hands trembling as it settled back into her hair, and he was pleased to note only the slightest hesitation before his fingers began to move.

The view from where he sat, his back against the tree trunk, was breathtaking. The breeze stirred the tall grass, and sunlight glinted off the surface of the rippling lake. Lucius enjoyed the warmth of her pressed against his side, completely relaxed for the first time in as long as he could remember.

"You know I'm a little surprised," she said offhandedly, tucked up against his side. "Prospero's going to be eleven soon, and you haven't once asked about Hogwarts."

He looked down at her, mouth agape in shock. She had a mischievous twinkle sparkling in her eyes. "I didn't think he could even…"

Lucius wracked his brain, but he knew he wouldn't find what he was searching for. If Prospero had shown any demonstration of accidental magic over the years, Hermione would have told him even if it  _ was _ only in a letter. Wouldn't she?

He shook his head slightly. No, that was a level of pettiness that  _ she _ wouldn't stoop to. He knew that much about her at least.

"He can't,” she admitted. “Not in the traditional sense."

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hermione watched for a moment as Lucius tried to work out what she could possibly mean. She didn't leave him floundering for too long though.

"It's a little hard to explain, but minotaurs have their own form of magic. I thought you knew. I thought surely you had it too."

She shrugged.

"Maybe being an animagus is different somehow," she mused, and he could almost see the wheels turning in her head.

Lucius shook his head, still looking a bit stunned. "I've never been able to use my magic when I shift."

He looked down and away, embarrassed. It was an admission that he was clearly uncomfortable making even to her.

"From what I can tell, the magic comes from a different place, so you might not have recognized it. I'm still researching it, and I confess that I'm curious to see if it's different for you being- Actually, it's best not to get me started."

Hermione climbed up into his lap, put her arms around his neck, and pressed her forehead to his, their noses touching lightly. His eyes were closed, but he didn't pull away and it made her smile. The intimacy already seemed to be coming easier between them.

She pressed her lips to his, still hesitant, but the soft caress wasn't shocking like their first had been. When he drew back, he was grinning in disbelief, but it fell away with his murmured, "But  _ how _ will he go if the magic is different?"

"Hogwarts has changed, Lucius. It is changing. I doubt you'd recognize the place these days. I've been working with Headmistress McGonagall on making the school more inclusive. We finalized the newest curriculum a few months ago. It was after we got your release date, and I wanted to tell you in person."

Lucius pulled Hermione into another kiss, this one lacking most of the awkwardness that so far had been a hallmark of their embraces while he was in his human form. 

"So, he's going to Hogwarts?" Lucius questioned in wonder.

She could feel his excitement humming beneath his skin, and knew that waiting had been the right call. Not only did she get to share the moment with him, the memory would undoubtedly be more pleasant than reading it in an impersonal letter behind bars.

Her smile only grew wider. "Our baby is going to go to Hogwarts."

"So what can he do? When did it start?" he asked a bit breathlessly.

"I don't think that's it's really that it started, per se. There were… odd little occurrences when he was small. I didn't think anything of it at the time."

"Like what?"

"Well," and she furrowed her brow attempting to recall a suitable incident. "I think he was- yes, he was just shy of three. I was trying to get a garden started: flower, vegetable, potion ingredients, anything really. Keeping plants alive had never been something I was terribly good at."

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hermione wiped the back of her gloved hand across her cheek, spitting out the hair and dirt she managed to deposit on her lips and tongue. Her sputtering caused a happy coo of laughter next to her, and she turned to face her tiny companion.

He was a gangly little thing; all knobby knees and elbows that she knew he would grow into one day much sooner than she was ready for. And that giant head of his… Hermione still shuddered at the memory of having to push  _ that _ out.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, half in exasperation, half in surprise as she caught sight of him. Somehow he had pulled a bag of her garden dirt over and managed to turn out the entire bag into his lap and over his head. He was so unbelievably strong for such a gangly little boy.

His ears, still too big for his head, flopped side-to-side as he shook a mound of soil off and looked up at her curiously with his big black eyes. They were also too big for his face.

Hermione reached out, a wistful smile on her face as she knocked the remaining dirt off his neck and shoulders, tousseling his silky hair atop his head affectionately.

He laughed again, grabbing two fistfuls of dirt. Quick as lightning, he shoved one fist into his mouth. Her eyes went wide.

"No!" she cried out in alarm, grasping at his arms before he could get the second fistful in.

Prospero tossed his head back and forth, trying to spit out the dirt stuck to his tongue. He scraped his tongue across his teeth one last time, finishing with a snort.

Hermione smirked at the look of surprise on his face, then with an eye roll and a resigned groan, pushed his hands back down when he lifted them to his mouth again.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Anyway, my first garden was a spectacular failure, aside from 'Prospero's spot' that is."

Lucius leaned back against the tree, closing his eyes momentarily as if trying to imagine it.

"It wasn't like it was that noticeable. It was just the only spot where anything grew at all. The next year he was old enough to help and I completely put it out of my mind. Just chalked it up to a green thumb."

He looked at her from beneath his long lashes. "So, he's good with plants…"

There were far worse things to be good at.

"Mmm, and animals. And he's got a pretty good grasp of ancient runes, but he might have picked that up from me."

Lucius dropped his gaze to where Hermione's hands moved idly over the center of his chest. She had a far off look in her eyes as she did so. He didn't think she even knew what she was doing, and he dropped his hands to rest lightly at the curve of her waist.

Before  _ he _ quite knew what he was doing, Lucius leaned forward, nuzzling his nose against her neck, and breathed her in. It wasn't anything he hadn't done a thousand times in his animagus form, but it felt different this way. Her scent was more subtle, though if he concentrated he could smell her nascent arousal. 

He felt movement against him, and his eyes slit open to watch as her fingers pulled at the buttons on her borrowed shirt. A low rumble came from deep in his chest. The shift was coming on. It was imminent now. He could barely hold it back. After what seemed an eternity his shirt hung loose on her shoulders, and Lucius' fingers tightened on Hermione's waist as he readied himself to flip her beneath him and mount her the way instinct screamed for him to.

"Wait," she murmured, startling him into sudden stillness.

Frustration made him pull her down hard against his straining cock. Hermione threw back her head and cried out in abandon, her fingers plucking nimbly at the buttons on his trousers. Lucius groaned with relief when he sprang free of the constricting fabric. She still avoided touching him, he noticed, but he didn't much care at this point. The warmth of her body as he rocked between her thighs was enough to drive him to distraction.

He made to move her once again.

"Stay," she commanded, her voice breathy with desire, hands clutching at his shoulders, pulling him closer.

He did growl this time, his irritation unmistakable.

"Hermione." The warning in his tone was clear.

"Shift," she implored, "shift but stay…"

Lucius cocked his head to the side, finally understanding what she wanted from him. He loosened his grip on her waist, reached up, and pulled the shirt from her shoulders. His gaze travelled downward to take in her heaving breasts encased in the goldenrod yellow of her bra cups like twin suns.

He licked his lips and felt the shift come over him with its familiar crunching sound as his bones began to change. His muscles rippled beneath his skin as his chest broadened, soft, silky hair cascading like water over his shoulders as it grew, he could feel her fingers carding through it rhythmically, and then came the moment when he knew the change was finally complete. The scent of her arousal was no longer muted, whispy, elusive. It roared through his senses, pounded in his blood, and Lucius couldn't contain the low call of need that answered back as he hooked his fingers in the crotch of her knickers and tore them from her eager body.

She stopped him from giving her bra the same rough treatment, reaching behind her back suddenly to undo the clasp. Lucius nosed aside the flimsy material leaving a wet trail on her flushed skin. His tongue rasped across her breasts, the sound it made loud in his ears, and she moaned as he latched onto an erect nipple and suckled tenderly.

Hermione's fingers slipped tentatively through the slickness between them. It was always a messy affair in his beastly form, one that he had grown used to, but messy nonetheless. He sucked harder, slurping wetly as her delicate fingers closed on his shaft. Hermione lowered herself onto him, and Lucius couldn't hold back the embarrassing high-pitched bay of pleasure as he slipped into the slick heat of her welcoming embrace.

Her hands gripped him hard as she rode him, reaching as far around his broad back as possible. He was surprised that he didn't seem to be having the same performance issues as the last time they had tried a face-to-face. Neither was she for that matter, and Lucius wondered if it was really so simple as him shifting form that made it work.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lucius' restless energy was nearly at the breaking point. He sat rigidly in the chair of his solicitor, Marcus Tinsley's office.

Waiting.

The formal robes he had retrieved from the manor were all wrong. He hated how stiff they were, cut so close there wasn't an inch of give in them even with the charms that let the fabric adjust whenever he shifted. Or it was just that he wasn't used to them anymore. He'd worn the same style of prison jumper every day for ten years in Azkaban, and he couldn't say that he had exactly dressed well in the few days since his release. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth at the memory of spending most of the previous day half naked.

Tinsley flitted about the office nervously, glancing repeatedly at the clock as he wrung his hands. Lucius sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to ignore the man before his nervousness pushed him over the edge. The woman he found himself waiting on was all wrong too. Of course, she was late. He had expected no less from her. Narcissa had never once been punctual in her life. That wasn't about to start now, and especially not for him.

Lucius turned his gaze to the window, watching the clouds shift form as they passed by. He heard the door open at last, heard the apprentice, Tinsley’s daughter, speak, though he didn't pay it much heed. The door closed and  _ she _ spoke, her voice cold and haughty.

He couldn't help comparing in his mind the difference between Narcissa's cold ruthlessness and Hermione's fiery anger. His eyes moved across the sky without really seeing it. Behind him his solicitor and his estranged wife were engaged in a heated discussion. Lucius wondered idly what Hermione and Prospero were doing at that moment, wishing he were with them and not where he currently found himself.

Reluctantly, he dragged his attention back to the proceedings, still only half attending to the conversation. Nearly two hours passed before Narcissa addressed him directly.

"And you don't have anything to say in this matter?!?"

He was so lost in his own thoughts that it took him a moment realize that Narcissa was shrieking at him. Lucius turned his gaze on her at last, and replied without much inflection or emotion at all, "Why would I? That's what I pay him for."

It only seemed to incense her further.

Lucius observed her quietly, unmoved by her obvious rage. Tinsley was brandishing a parchment at her, he'd clearly been imploring her to sign, and Narcissa batted him away as she must have already done several times for the man to have that flustered look about him.

"So, you leave me to deal with him, all while you sit there dreaming of your whore. Been cavorting with the little bitch since your release, have you?”

The swell of anger within him was immediate. His fingers tightened on the armrest of his chair to keep himself from bolting out of it. The leather creaked audibly. Narcissa had finally gained his full attention.

"You will not call her that again." The warning in his voice was unmistakable, and even Narcissa was momentarily cowed by his wrath.

"Need I remind you that you volunteered me for the scheme in the first place?"

"How did you-" Narcissa cut herself off abruptly.

"You don't deny it, I see. I'd wondered how he found out about me," Lucius continued, and Narcissa remained silent. "I thought perhaps he had seen it in my mind. You played the concerned spouse so well. Imagine my surprise when I learned the truth from Severus."

The admission was enough to give her pause before she spat coldly, "Well forgive me for trying to salvage what was left of our family."

Lucius snorted derisively.

"You were disgraced. What was I supposed to do?" she snapped.

"Not betray me," he growled. "What I revealed to you, in strictest confidence, was personal, and you went to  _ him _ ."

Lucius stood and crossed the room, stepping into Narcissa's personal space. She was nearly as tall as he was, and though she held her ground, he could sense her unease.

"It can't have come as a surprise to you, what happened," he murmured. "After years of denying me in your bed you must have known what would happen when you forced us together."

"How could I have known?" she asked, staring defiantly back at him.

"If you didn't, you deluded yourself. You watched Bellatrix torture her just as I did. You saw what she was."

"And what was that?"

"Everything you were not. Were you jealous? Is that why you did it?"

Narcissa scoffed. "Jealous? Of a mudblood? Hardly."

Lucius' hand shot out and closed on her throat without warning. "You will not call her that either."

He released her just as suddenly, forcing himself to drop his hand. "Bellatrix tortured her for hours and she didn't give a bloody inch. How long would it have taken you under the same treatment?"

Narcissa glared, pushing past him. 

"You should accept the offer," he called after her. "Considering everything you've done, it's the most generous one you'll receive."

She sneered at the parchment as Tinsley thrust it out to her again. "No, I don't think I will. You can do better than a paltry ten percent."

"Draco's getting more than ten percent. I thought our son's well-being was what you cared about."

The mocking tone in his voice was evident. It wasn't as though he tried to hide it, and it angered Narcissa who flounced out of the office, slamming the door behind her.

Lucius turned to face the room's silent occupant, waiting until her quick-quill finished moving across the parchment and she put it away.

"Was that enough, Marcus?" he asked the room at large.

His solicitor didn't answer immediately. He took the parchment, his eyes scanning over it quickly, then he nodded. "It's enough. I had hoped she would be more explicit, but it's enough."

He looked up sharply at Lucius. "And I had hoped  _ you _ would refrain from physical threats."

"Yes, I had as well," Lucius replied wearily. It was part of the reason he had tuned out much of the conversation in the beginning.

"Actually, I think it'll work out fine, father," Marta interjected, speaking up for the first time. "It demonstrates a protective instinct and Miss Granger is well-loved and respected. People will sympathize."

"Yes, that's true." Tinsley tapped a finger to his lips thoughtfully. "I'll do what I can to spin it in a positive light. After all, you didn't lay a hand on her until she said-"

Lucius glared at Tinsley, an unmistakable growl of warning in the back of his throat. He shifted uncomfortably under Lucius' wrath.

"Well, I suppose it doesn't bear repeating, of course."

"No, it does not." His tone brooked no argument.

"Marta," Tinsley addressed his apprentice, clearing his throat awkwardly. "Please Floo the Ministry. We'll need an auror present for the collection to make it official."

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lucius stepped out of the Floo into his study for only the second time since his release from Azkaban, stretching out his tense muscles with a groan. The collection of his part of all the necessary memories had taken nearly an hour. The aurors were still working on collecting from Marcus and his daughter Marta. Lucius was impressed with the young woman's work. She had been the one to suggest the idea and the meeting as a way to build his case. His legal affairs would be well taken care of when she finally took over her father's work. 

"The elves let me in. Said you wouldn't be long. That was nearly forty minutes ago."

He lifted a hand to the top button on his shirt, and paused as his eyes took in a sight both alien and familiar. Draco was no longer a boy on the cusp of manhood. He was a man now, fully grown, taking after his mother in looks, although the eyes remained the same. It was only further proof to Lucius of how badly he had fucked up and how much he had missed out on.

Lucius clenched his jaw slightly, shaking himself from his thoughts, and finally popped the button free of its hole. "It took longer than I expected."

He stepped towards his desk, and then paused before reaching it. "Would you-"

"What? Gonna offer me a drink? Like we're business partners or something?" Draco held up his crystal tumbler, the ice inside tinkling slightly. "Already helped myself, thanks."

Lucius took a deep breath, rubbing at the back of his neck, and stepped over to pour himself a stiff drink. Conversing with Draco was evidently going to be as much of an ordeal as dealing with his mother. He was not looking forward to it.

When he turned back around, Draco had taken a seat near the fire. Lucius sat opposite, taking a rather large, fortifying drink of his whiskey as he did so.

"You… you look well, Draco." Lucius lifted his glass to his lips again, recognizing the inadequacy of the statement. Draco realized it too, and his anger was immediately evident.

"You mean in spite of everything you put us through?" He stood up from his chair and began to pace angrily. "It was your idea to follow that madman!"

"Draco-" but he would not be placated. He had come for a fight, and would not be dissuaded.

"No!" He pulled back his sleeve, hatred in his eyes, to show his faded mark. " _ I can't get away from this! _ No matter how far I run, I can't escape it. Did you know that I couldn't get a job this side of the pond? That no one would hire me because of my name? Did you even care to know?"

"Of course I care!" Lucius hissed, knowing that he sounded angry as well even though it was only that Draco's words were so painful to hear. "I didn't ask you here to fight."

"What did you think was going to happen?"

"I thought- hoped that we could put the past behind us, that we could be a family again."

"Family?" Draco laughed bitterly. "Since when have we been a family?" 

Lucius opened his mouth to respond, but Draco continued without giving him the opportunity. "We've never been a family,  _ father _ , even before you got one on Granger."

"You know that I had no choice in that. Voldemort would have killed us all if I had refused."

"So, mother's wrong? You  _ haven't _ still been shagging her then?" he asked archly.

Lucius pressed his lips together in a thin line, his fingers tightening incrementally on the glass in his hand.

Draco's voice was flat when he spoke. "Yeah, that's what I thought."

"Your mother and I have our own… issues," Lucius replied. His jaw was clenched in anger. He had never intended to use Draco as a pawn in their battle of wills. Clearly Narcissa had no such compunction. "They are between us. You need not concern yourself with them."

"As for Miss Granger," Draco made a noise of displeasure, crossing his arms and turning away petulantly, "she should not concern you either. I am not asking you to be friends, you don't even need to speak to her if you do not wish it, but your brother-"

Lucius was taken aback by the venom in Draco's voice when he rounded on him. His eyes were filled with a sudden and intensely real hatred, and Lucius couldn't help but think that he looked just like his mother and his aunt when she had been in one of her rages as he spat out, "I don't have a brother. If you think I'm going to call that abomination 'kin' you're insane. You might not mind dirtying our blood, but I refuse to."

And before Lucius could recover from his shock, Draco turned on the spot and apparated away, the thunder crack ringing in his ears. A tear slipped unbidden down his cheek, and he wiped it away distractedly, almost mechanically, staring at the spot where Draco had stood. He could take the hatred from Narcissa, he expected it, but from his son?

A rage that could rival the one his son had just displayed bubbled up inside him. He could feel that other part of himself, the beast that had been clawing its way to the surface for the better part of the day, threatening to break through the thin veneer of his self control.

Lucius threw his glass across the room. It shattered against the far wall before he even realized it had left his hand. He growled low in the back of his throat, itching to shift form and release his fury on everything in sight. Instead, he stalked towards the fireplace, grabbed a handful of powder, and threw it into the flames, speaking his destination with a snarl.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Floo being activated registered in the back of her mind, but there was too much going on in the kitchen for it to be more than a minor detail. Hermione quickly wiped her hands on her apron, spinning around to pull the roast out of the oven as the timer beeped incessantly. She bumped into Bill as he got there first.

"Whoa, steady there!" he laughed, placing a hand on her shoulder to help do just that.

"I could get that, you know."

"Yeah," he replied, nonchalantly pulling on a pair of oven mitts, "but it's not like we're really guests at this point."

He pulled out the roasting pan, and took a whiff. "Smells good, but as usual it's overdone."

"I've told you a thousand times," she grabbed the timer, turning the dial to silence it. "It's pork. It's not getting any rarer than that."

"If you want it bloody, Bill," Fleur spoke up in her melodic voice from across the table, "you should cook for yourself. I won't have you making the whole family sick."

"Nah, it's good for them," he insisted, as he always did, sneaking a bite of the roast.

Hermione smacked his knuckles with a spoon, hissing, "Get out of it!"

The comically wounded look on Bill's face was as familiar as the 'argument'. In ten years of dinners with the Weasley family, nothing much had changed.

Hermione realized suddenly as Bill's eyes grew wide and he took a step back that it wasn't actually true. Things had changed, and they had changed rapidly in just the last few days. She turned and took in the sight of Lucius standing in the doorway leading to the living room where he had clearly just come from using the Floo.

He wasn't even looking at her. He was staring at Bill and there was a scowl on his face and murder in his eyes. Bill backed away from her slowly, moving closer to Fleur and motioning for his wife to head towards the door leading outside. 

Bill didn't move slowly enough. Lucius took a threatening step forward, and Hermione's face drained of all color. She had witnessed Lucius' possessive behavior before when bulls in the herd had come to blows, most often over a fertile female though sometimes they clashed over territory too.

In Lucius' eyes Bill was encroaching on both, and he had been out of the world for so long, was so out of practice in social situations that his burgeoning instincts were overwhelming the rational part of his mind. It was either that or he saw him as a threat, and she didn't know which was worse.

Hermione stepped in front of Lucius without a thought for her own safety. A rumble from deep in his chest set her nerves on edge, and she realized belatedly the danger she was in when she placed her hand on his arm and he turned his wrath on her.

His beast was fighting to assert itself, and Lucius was rapidly losing the battle to contain it.

"Hermione…"

Lucius' attention refocused on Bill as he whispered her name apprehensively. The change began to overtake him quickly now. She could hear his bones shifting and he suddenly loomed over her. He was breathing harder, preparing to push past her and throw himself at Bill.

"Get out the door. Now," she hissed quietly, not taking her eyes off Lucius. "I can calm him down, but you both need to get out of sight."

Hermione shifted slightly, drawing Lucius' gaze back to her.

"I'll be fine," she told them, but even she wasn't so sure this time.

She smoothed her hands over her apron, watching his eyes track her movements, and breathed a sigh of relief when she heard Bill and Fleur shuffle out of the cottage without Lucius noticing they'd left.

He was still shifting form, though the change was less alarming than it had been only moments earlier. Hermione licked her lips nervously. The immediate danger had passed, but that didn't make Lucius any less dangerous right now, and her mind raced looking for a way to force his more rational, human side back into control.

Lucius tilted his head in interest as his gaze landed on the pink tip of her tongue poking from between her lips. His oil-slick liquid eyes stared at her mouth without blinking, and his nostrils flared. She took a step backwards and he followed.

Hermione stopped. Lucius didn't. She ducked beneath his arm, sprinting through the doorway and across the living room, making a beeline for the stairs.

He bellowed in irritation, giving chase, and though his size allowed him to remain fast on her heels, her speed kept her just out of reach. Until it didn't. Lucius tackled her to the floor before she ever reached the stairs, knocking the couch sideways.

She lay dazed for a moment from the blow, scrambling quickly once she regained her senses. The bulk of Lucius' weight was on top of her before she could get far. Hermione whimpered in pain when one of his large hands landed on her hair, effectively pinning her to the floor. She froze when he moved over her, and she felt the telltale evidence of his arousal pressing against her backside.

"Lucius-" She bit back a startled cry as his hips bucked harshly against her.

He moved, settling on top of her clumsily so that his arms and legs bracketed her body. Hermione cursed her foolishness. Lucius, running on instinct, had only two things on his mind: fighting and fucking. She had seen it before. She just hadn't thought to attribute those instincts to him.

Now with the threat posed by Bill eliminated in his mind, Lucius' mood had turned amorous. It wasn't what Hermione had envisioned, but it  _ was _ likely to bring him back to himself. She was glad that he wasn't in his right mind. Lucius was so hell-bent on rutting against her backside, grunting harshly and breathing hard on the back of her neck, that he didn't realize that he had never bothered to remove their clothes. 

It was a small mercy. He would probably have torn her quite badly if he had. Lucius wasn't exactly small in his beastly form, and she occasionally found him a challenge when she was aroused.

Hermione lay beneath him as he worked himself against her, waiting for him to finish, and hoping that Bill and Fleur and especially the kids remained outside. She wriggled her bottom, hoping to speed up the process. Dinner wasn't finished yet, and she was famished. It had the desired effect, and Lucius came with a grunt shortly thereafter, slumping on top of her before rolling off with a snort of contentment.

She turned towards him, gazing at his languid form, and discreetly glanced down at the stain spreading over his crotch. A wave of her hand wandlessly dispelled the mess. Lucius' nostrils twitched, and he leaned over to sniff at her. Apparently satisfied, he licked her hip, and sat up slowly, blinking at her curiously.

Hermione reached out to touch his face, stroking her fingers through his silky hair, and kissed him on the snout. He ducked his head to nuzzle into the crook of her neck. She smiled to herself when Lucius took a deep breath and began to shift back to his human form.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lucius was startled from his thoughts when a hand tapped him on the shoulder. He glanced up as Weasley held out a bottle to him before flopping gracelessly down onto the grass at his side. Weasley saluted with his own bottle before tipping it to his lips, and Lucius nodded his thanks before doing the same.

"Not a beer drinker?" Weasley asked, noticing his slight grimace.

"No, I just- it's been a while, and I tend to prefer whiskey or scotch."

The man next to him nodded. "The good stuff too, I'd bet."

Lucius nodded in return, taking another sip. They sat in silence watching the children play, each nursing their drinks.

"Why are you here?" Lucius asked suddenly. It came out more snippy than he had intended, he really was having a terrible day, but before he could correct himself, Weasley answered.

"Just thought you could use an ear. You know, someone to talk to, someone who's been where you are now."

Lucius didn't bother hiding his bark of disbelief as he lifted his bottle to his lips.

"You feel like you aren't in control, right? For someone like you, I imagine that's a frightening feeling. You don't feel like you used to. It bothers you, not because you're losing who you used to be, but because it doesn't concern you as much as you think it should."

Lucius was speechless. How could Weasley know exactly what he felt inside? He finally looked over at the man next to him, noticing for the first time the extensive scarring on his face, and then he remembered.

"Wolf." He had smelled it on him in the cottage. It was the main reason he had lost control so quickly.

"Eh, not quite. I'm a rare case. I was never actually bitten, but I managed to pick up a lot of the characteristics."

"May I ask when it happened?"

A shadow passed over Weasley's face. "It was the night Dumbledore… well."

Weasley didn't continue, not that Lucius needed him to. Not only did he know which night the man meant, he was sure he knew who had done it as well.

"I'm sorry," Lucius replied quietly. He wasn't quite sure what else to say.

Weasley waved his hand, unconcerned. "My point is that you're not the only one with a beast inside you, and you don't have to go through it alone."

"Was it difficult to adjust?"

Weasley glanced over his shoulder back towards the cottage. "For me? No. Fleur had a hard time at first. She would never admit it; not to me, not even to herself, but I could tell."

He turned back around before adding, "At least you won't have the same problem with Hermione."

Lucius' brows knit together in confusion. "Problem?"

Weasley shook his head with a chuckle. "You get a gaggle of witches together, I swear it's worse than a sixth-year boys' dormitory. I once caught the tail end of a conversation that was  _ not _ meant for my ears."

He shot Lucius a conspiratorial glance. "It seems Hermione  _ really _ likes your other half."

Lucius was more than a little surprised that Hermione had spoken so openly to her friends about him. 

He felt strangely comfortable with this Weasley, despite coming so close to ripping his head off earlier. Maybe that was why he found himself admitting somewhat bitterly, "It's this half of me she doesn't like."

Though he shared her preference for his 'other half' as Weasley put it, the admission hurt more than he had expected. The day, and the confrontations that went with it, had shaken his confidence. He knew he wasn't hideous by any means, far from it, but it certainly wounded his pride for Hermione to want so little to do with him in his current state. His meeting with Narcissa had only reminded him that she had wanted nothing at all to do with him.

"She'll come around. Fleur was exactly the opposite. At least Hermione isn't afraid of that other side of you."

Weasley stood up, and Lucius followed suite, brushing grass off his trousers as he did. "Anyway, just wanted to let you know that I'm available if you ever need to talk."

"I appreciate it." Lucius took the offered hand, thinking as he shook it that it was a strange feeling to be on such friendly terms with- "I'm terribly sorry, but which Weasley were you again?"

Rather than finding the question offensive, the man laughed good-naturedly. "Bill. Now how about we round up the kids, cause I don't know about you, but I am starving."

Lucius smiled and nodded his agreement, and they set off down the hill towards the squealing children.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Did you and Bill have a nice talk?" 

Lucius was so engrossed with watching Hermione undress, that he almost missed the question. It wasn't even as though she were trying to tempt him either; skinning her top off over her head nonchalantly, her back to him as she dug in a drawer in front of her. He somehow found it all the more enticing because of it.

"You sent him out there?" he asked, coming to his senses as she reached behind her back to unclasp her bra.

"No," he could hear the smile in her voice, "but I didn't discourage it."

He was thoughtful for a moment.

"It went… surprisingly well, even if he is a Weasley," Lucius added with a cheeky grin.

She shot him a look of mock exasperation.

"Better than today did at any rate," he added bitterly. "You haven't asked me about…"

Hermione shrugged her shoulders lightly. "It wasn't my business. If you had wanted me to know-"

"I'm ending it; cutting her off completely."

Hermione paused at his rushed words, soft cotton slipping through her fingers as she finally found what she was looking for. She picked it up again, worrying the cloth nervously and asked, "Are you sure that's a good idea?" 

"It was an arranged marriage," Lucius replied, moving closer behind Hermione. Why was she against it? He had no idea. 

"It's nothing but a sham. It's been one ever since-" he stopped abruptly, unsure if he should finish the statement.

"You  _ can _ say it, you know. We  _ were _ forced together."

Lucius reached out, running a finger lightly over her bare shoulder. He was fairly certain his marriage had been a sham long before that fateful day, but he knew that day had truly been the end.

"I don't regret it," he murmured. "What I did to you, yes, but… I never would have chosen this, but I don't regret it."

Hermione slipped the new garment over her head, tugging it into place, and then turned around. "I'm glad. I mean, I wish it had gone better, obviously, but I- I like having you here."

She reached out to grasp his hand in both of her small ones, bringing it to her lips to brush a kiss across the backs of his knuckles. "I forgave you long ago anyway, for what you were forced to do."

"I could have said no."

She raised her eyes to meet his, and there was an unfathomable sadness in them that left little doubt as to what she was thinking.

"No, you couldn't have," she replied simply.

Lucius broke eye contact, blinking rapidly as he looked down at their joined hands. He took a deep breath. "What is this nonsense?"

He plucked at the oversized garment that brushed the tops of her thighs, head tilted to take in the lettering across the front.

"Paramore?" he read aloud. Her shirt was faded, far from new, and Lucius brought her hands to her sides, placing his hands on her hips. "Why would you want to advertise that you have a lover in such a way?"

"It's a band," she laughed. 

"What, like that  _ Weird Sisters _ group that all those kids were always so obsessed with?" he sneered.

He could tell from the mirth in her voice that she was holding in more laughter at his expense. "In that they both make music? No, not really the same thing. I didn't think you'd know the  _ Weird Sisters _ ."

A look of distaste crossed Lucius' face. "I had to approve their appearances at the Hogwarts Yule balls when I was a Governor. Mmm, you should take it off. It's not really all that appealing," and he set about attempting just that.

"It's for sleeping in," one of her hands let go of the hem of her shirt where she was attempting to keep him from pulling it up, and she leaned forward to whisper suggestively in his ear, "and if it's not that appealing then why are you hard?"

"I'm often hard around you," he gasped as her fingers made contact with the front of his trousers. "It's becoming something of a problem."

"And you think getting me naked will make this go away?" She squeezed him a little harder, looking pleased when his hips stuttered in response.

"Temporarily." He smirked down at her. "You shouldn't sleep in it. I like having you naked in bed."

“And if Prospero comes barreling in here again like he did yesterday? It's probably new for you, but I assure you, it's a common occurrence."

"Is that really appropriate?" He found it rather disturbing to think of Prospero interrupting them mid-coitus.

"We can lock the door when we're otherwise engaged, but he's ten, Lucius, and he's happy that you're here too," she replied with a sigh. "Surely Draco woke you up wanting to play when he was a kid."

He most certainly had not. It wouldn't have been allowed.

You know," she said, pulling him from his thoughts, "you never said how your visit with him went."

His gaze darted to hers before he quickly looked away. From the concern in her eyes, he knew he hadn't managed to hide the extent of his feelings on the matter of his oldest son.

"What's wrong?"

He batted her hand away as she reached for his face. "It doesn't matter. If he wants to follow in her footsteps, he can share her fate."

Her eyes widened in alarm. "Lucius, what happened today?"

"I don't want to talk about Draco," he all but growled. Lucius renewed his efforts to divest Hermione of her clothes, succeeding this time in getting it off over her head.

"Okay! Just slow down." Her hands dropped to the button on her pants to keep him from ripping them off. 

Lucius didn't feel like slowing down one bit. He wanted to lose himself in her and forget that his awful day had ever happened at all. Lucius dipped his head to draw a pebbled, rosy bud between his lips with a low moan, his hands landing on her waist to steady her. He could see Hermione's nimble fingers working the button beneath them out of the corner of his eye. 

He thought she would fight him on it, that she would insist on talking, but he didn't need to shift to smell her arousal as she skinned off her jeans and stepped out of them. Lucius slipped a hand into her knickers, his fingers finding their way to the welcoming, molten heat between her legs. She cried out, grinding down onto his fingers, and all but ripped off his shirt.

He was still attached to her breast, sucking enthusiastically when he felt her hands carding through his hair. Her grip tightened, holding him to her, and she turned them both, leading him in the direction of the bed. He followed eagerly, never letting go of her.

Hermione pushed him away slightly, favoring him with a shy, yet sultry grin. She ducked forward, capturing his lips in a kiss that while still hesitant, was far bolder than only days previous. Her gaze lingered on his mouth, her fingers ghosting over his parted lips, and then she turned quickly, climbing onto the bed on her hands and knees.

He moved up behind her, stroking a hand over the curve of her bottom, and then he drew her knickers far enough down her legs so that she could kick them off. With a small grin, Lucius leaned forward, licking the crease where the top of her thigh ended and breathed in the heady scent that drove his beast wild. She spread her legs, and he gripped her thighs tightly, sliding his tongue through the slippery folds where he longed to bury his cock.

Lucius groaned, lapping up the nectar flowing freely until Hermione shuddered and begged him to stop teasing her. He stood up, his mouth glistening, and reached urgently for the buttons on the front of his trousers. His pants undone, he hesitated, licking his lips nervously as he gazed at the beautiful woman trembling before him.

He swallowed hard and asked, “How- how do you want me?”

Her head snapped up at the question. Lucius held his breath, determined not to let her request for him to shift form bother him. He could tell that she was thinking about his question. She turned to look at him over her shoulder and met his eyes.

“Why don’t you choose?” she murmured, and then turned around again.

Lucius couldn’t help the tiny smile that touched his lips at her whispered words. Without further hesitation, he dropped his trousers and joined her on the bed.


End file.
